


Bitter Iron

by Hexabeetle



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018), Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27897781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hexabeetle/pseuds/Hexabeetle
Summary: Hordak Bittersoul, Lord of the Zona Turbarentur it's crew of rejects, confronts a ghost from his past.
Comments: 17
Kudos: 9





	Bitter Iron

It was burned into his mind; that fateful day atop the battlements of Hezekiah's Citadel. They had fought through the minefields and the trenches. They had breached the walls and slaughtered the defenders under Medrengard's black sun. For days and days and days he had led them, fought beside them and recaptured the smallest glimmer of what they had once been. 

And then Prime had taken it all away from him.

His lord and brother had joined them at last, to take in the view of his victory. The victory that Hordak had won for him. Before Prime could give him the approval he so desperately craved the ambush struck. A dozen skittering mechanical horrors, unleashed from the deepest vaults under the citadel burst forth from unnatural shadows cast by the black sun and fell upon the legionnaires. Hordak saw one point an arcane barrel at his lord and without hesitation knocked the larger astarte aside. He took the full brunt of the rad-cleanser’s blast and fell to the ground. 

The battle noise disappeared in a hissing roar as he felt his body breaking down from the incredible radiation dose it had received. He slid in and out of consciousness until sound returned, tinny and distant. The blurred form of Prime loomed over him. The gleaming white helmet was scraped and chipped, but when Hordak's vision refocused all he could see was the burning green of Prime's eyes.

An armoured gauntlet clamped around his neck and lifted, hoisting him up until his feet left the floor. He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. His body burned from the inside as blood swept from every pore, the pain was beyond imagining. And yet all his focus was held by those eyes. His lord, his master, his brother.

"Pathetic." Prime murmured, and tossed him over the edge.

He let out a quiet gasp burning green shifted to the soft red glow of a cogitator screen. With a sigh he flexed his clawed hands free from the rents they had gouged out of the work surface and stood. He was still shaking from the memory and although his Sanctum was perpetually cool and dry he felt far too warm, he wiped sweat from his brow and his palm came away bloody. The long bat-like ears, a symptom of his time in the warp along with his claws and skullish face, twitched in irritation. He heard metallic skittering in the darkness.

"Entrapta?" He called out, hearts beating uncomfortably fast. "Show yourself!"

She swung into view from above on her many mechadendrites, smiling brightly. "Hey Hordak! Do you need something? Are you ok?" His hearts pounded in his chest.

Stupid, stupid! It was Entrapta! She was no threat to him, in fact she was one of the two beings in this universe he considered himself close to. It was just a memory, that was all. 

"Ah…" He cleared his throat. "What is the status of the Zona Turbarentur? The deck vibrations are stronger than normal." It was a bad lie, but then Hordak was a bad liar. She gave him a funny look.

"The ship is running fine Hordak, the reactor is operating at 67.3574%, there's nothing abnormal. Are you sure you are ok?"

"Yes I am, and I won't stand for your insolence. Return to your work!" He barked weakly. Entrapta stared at him for a moment before smiling again. "Ok Hordak! See yah." And swung back into the rafters. 

He sighed again and moved slowly back to his workstation. His armour was held in a large armature for Entrapta to work on later so all he wore was a thin blue shift that covered his deeply scarred body. In the meantime he decided to tinker with his weaponry, starting with the volkite caliver he had already extensively modified. If nothing else it would take his mind off the pain.

Some time later the Sanctum door opened with a grinding screech and Hordak turned from his work. The door was sealed, so there was only one other person it could be.

"Catra." 

"Lord Hordak." The Drukhari Wych went to one knee. Her tail, a modification she almost certainly got along with the fur and claws, swished behind her.

"Do you have a reason to intrude into my Sanctum?" She blinked at him slowly and rose.

"As if I need one." She brushed dirt off her knee. Hordak turned back to his work with a grunt, conceding the point. Catra was the other being, they'd been through too much together to not be close.

"I _do_ have one though." She moved over to him, resting a hand on his shoulder and peering at his work with a bored expression. "Kyle picked up a stray astropathic message, thought it might be of interest."

"Oh?"

"It was a summons. Someone is gathering a fleet to sack the Etherian Sector, thought you might want to get out of here before they arrive."

"Who is leading it?"

"They go by Horde Prime."

Hordak hearts seized. His hands spasmed, ripping open a coolant line and spraying burning fluid over them. Catra pulled him away from the hissing weapon and held him down as he shuddered. 

"Hordak! Entrapta, get down here!" She yelled into the void.

Hordak gasped as blood started weeping from his scars. Prime was leaving Medrengard. Prime was coming here.

"What happened?" Entrapta yelled at Catra as she landed next to him, medicae supplies in hand.

"I don't know! He just started freaking out!"

Their voices were distant, he wasn't really there any more. He was on Medrengard, staring into those burning green eyes. 

"Catra." He choked out. "Bring the ship to battle ready. We are staying." Blood was flowing from his mouth. 

Prime was coming here. _Prime was coming here_.

Steel sparked off steel and the sound echoed around the near empty sparring chambers. Hordak pulled awkwardly away from a slashing blade and disengaged, breathing heavily as his lungs tried to draw in air. He was bleeding slowly from a dozen cuts, each one a killing blow had they been just a little deeper. Across from him Catra continued to circle him lazily.

"You know, I don't quite understand the point of this." She sighed, examining his blood on her knives. "Unless you just want me to hurt you, in which case there's easier ways." Off to the side, Entrapta hummed in agreement as she tapped away at her data pad.

"The point…" Hordak gasped. "Is that if I can't beat you, then I can't beat Prime!" 

He lunged forward, the sleek sword in his hand darting towards Catra's neck. She bent around it without effort and jammed her knife into his wrist. The sword clattered to the ground and Catra kicked in hard in the chest, sending him to the ground choking. 

"At least wear your damn armour so that I don't feel as bad."

"No! I have to do this, not the armour, ME!" He snarled, struggling to rise. "I need to show him I'm not worthless before I kill him. I need to do this…"

Entrapta sighed sadly and swiped through his vitae readings. Catra looked at her and saw the tears leaking from purple optics. She turned back to the struggling astarte, angry now.

"You stupid son of a bitch." He went for her again, claws extended, and she stepped through the strike and kicked his legs out. He dropped, again. A finger jabbed at Entrapta.

"She made that armour. She made it for you! Because she cares about you; she gives a shit. Just like I do. You're so busy hating Prime that you haven't stopped to consider how much WE hate him too!" She planted a foot on his chest and pushed him down. Entrapta got up and came over.

"He hurt you Hordak, you did everything for him and he tossed you away. I want him on my table, in pieces." She was crying.

"And I'm going to drink every last drop of his pain while she does it." Catra gave him an exasperated look. "By the Dark City Hordak, the whole ship knows somethings up and is ready to tear apart whoever's pissed you off. We're the only ones who know everything, but the whole Zona Turbarentur is with you whether you want them or not."

Hordak tried to speak, but Entrapta cut him off. "I've even been refurbing the murder-servitors! If I can't use them then I'll be mad!" She pouted. "And what would I say to Scorpia? I already helped sharpen her claws!"

Hordak coughed loudly. "I… I am sorry. I didn't think… that is to say I find it hard to remember you are all with me, always. You have both been with me for so long and without you I… I don't know what I would be."

"Dead, probably." Catra snarled and offered him a hand. He took it and she heaved him up. "Get his armour, 'Traps. I want to kick his ass in a fair fight."

Without warning the sparring chamber door opened as Kyle and Rogelio entered mid conversation. They fell silent when they saw Hordak's exposed wasted body. Entrapta was in from on him in an instant, weapon limbs and blades extending, hissing a warning in binharic.

"Entrapa, stand down." Hordak sighed and moved unsteadily to the newcomers, Catra handed him a shift that he slipped on. "Explain this interruption."

Kyle bowed his head. "L-Lord Hordak, I am so sorry! We were looking for Force Captain Catra, I have news of her request."

Hordak cocked an eye at Catra and she stepped forward.

"What is it, Kyle?"

"She says, 'No'." He winced. "No other sendings."

"Oh." A brief sadness flicked over her face. "Well it was worth a try."

"Something I should know about, Force Captain?" Hordak asked.

"No Lord, just a long shot that missed."

He grunted. "Very well. You," he pointed at Kyle and Rogelio, "gather the force captains and tell them to meet me in my Sanctum in one hour." They bowed and fled. 

"What about us, Hordak?" Entrapta asked. 

"Well, we have an hour." He grinned at them and pulled the shift back off.

The void was ablaze as the two fleets clashed at the edge of the Etherian Sector. Though the white hulls of Prime's forces outnumbered the multi coloured ships of the Etherian Defence Fleet they were canny and well led; they'd last a good long time. At least in Captain Octavia's estimation they would. She'd been running circles around them in the Zona Turbarentur for years, to the point where they thought Hordak had his own damn fleet, so she had a good handle on their capabilities. Still, this would be the first time they were the smaller force….

The frigate hung in nebula off to the side of the battle, well hidden from eyes and scanners. This wasn't their fight, not yet anyway. She had strict orders to wait until Prime's flagship, the Velvet Glove, was engaged by the Swiftwind; something that was sure to happen sooner rather than later knowing its Captain. Once they started trading blows she was to break cover and make beat speed to the flagship and deposit her very angry cargo, "By any means.", as Lord Hordak had put it. Her lips pulled back, revealing row upon row of razor teeth. She could do that, oh yes, she could.

Deep in the bowels of the ship lay the rarely used Teleportarium. Hordak and his retainers milled about loading munitions, checking gear and carrying out whatever rituals they required to prepare themselves. The psyker, Kyle, and his reptilian companion Rogelio, were with them. He would be essential for tracking down Prime in the maze of an unfamiliar ship. 

Catra, festooned in blades, was checking the power supply of her crackling, toxic whip and Entrapta hovered around a pack of sleek murder-servitors like an anxious mother hen. He checked his own weapons, the volkite caliver attached to his left arm buzzed with power and his power sword sliced through the air with a pleasing lightness. His armour gave him strength and purpose like he never had before. He looked at Catra, then Entrapta. 

No, it wasn't his armour. It was them, his friends. His family. Something he thought he had lost when Prime had thrown him off that damned wall. They would find Prime, together, and they would kill him. The floor shifted suddenly under them, and Entrapta called out. 

"Engines have gone full burn, the reactor power is rising."

_So it begins._

"Ready yourselves!" He yelled, and slid his skull helm on. They all shuffled onto the teleporter pad and he felt Catra lay a clawed hand on his shoulder. Entrapta's mechadendrites moved over his armour checking for any final issues, they lingered on him a moment longer than was necessary and he smiled.

The Zona Turbarentur had been a swift ship, once, but ever since Entrapta got her spindly hands on it she was the fastest vessel in the sector. Octavia may have found the bizarre heretek annoying but right now she whispered her a blessing of thanks. The void was thick with fire and debris but they sailed through and around it all. Lance fire and solid shot from both sides tore past them but they were untouchable. Octavia's tentacles flared with savage joy, this was living. She peered through the murky sensor displays and the great, armoured view port.

"That one!" She yelled, jabbing a talon at the screen. "The big white bastard in the middle, set course straight for it. Full speed." 

The helmsman glanced round at her, before spinning the wheel.

"Are we intending to ram them, Captain?" Commander Grizzlor asked cautiously. She looked at him with her razor teeth bared.

"Oh good, we are going to ram them." He sighed tiredly. "Reactor to full! Brace for impact!" 

Muttering a prayer of protection the engineering officer spun the brass crank up to full. Deep in the engines, servitors and menials opened valves and stoked plasma furnaces until the reactor's dull glow roared into a blazing purple star. 

The Zona Turbarentur shot forward, superstructure groaning. It streaked through space, the freshly painted red bat wings on the prowl flashing in the light, and like the galaxy's largest macro shell it slammed into the void shields of the Velvet Glove and burst them. As they burned past dozens of assault torpedoes fired, carrying hundreds of fierce warriors from as many different races. Deep inside the ship Hordak closed his eyes as light enveloped him.

They materialised onboard with a thunder crack of ionised air. An atrium dense with the plant life of a thousand burned worlds stretched out around them. Hordak looked up through the massive domed skylight and saw a destroyer in the livery of Salineas vanish in nuclear fire, his auto-senses whirring to shield his eyes.

“Force Captain.” Catra’s ears twitched. “Take the bridge.” 

With a howl of excitement the wych sprinted off. Scorpia’s bulky mutant form followed her, along Lonnie and her soldier. Hordak would have to trust that Cobalt would hold the enginarium in good time.

That left him standing with Entrapta, her mechanical horrors, Kyle and Rogelio. Hordak glanced at the psyker. “Where is he?”

Kyle gripped his staff tightly and expanded his senses. He brushed against the minds of hundreds of astartes and thousands of menials as they rushed to the ships defense until he fell on something ancient and foul. It seared his mind and tried to engulf what remained of his soul until he fell into Rogelio’s supporting arms with a gasp of pain.

“I-I found him.” He steadied himself, spitting out blood. “This way.” 

The door Kyle had chosen opened into a corridor full of white clad armsmen. They fell easily to the searing beams of Hordak’s volkite and Entrapta’s gleeful killers. In fact it took them far longer than Hordak had expected before they encountered the first of his erstwhile brothers. 

The astartes struck at him from a concealed side passage, his great two handed axe cleaving through the air as Hordak ducked away. He bellowed in rage, called Hordak a traitorous cur, and swung again. Hordak, for his part, shot him in the face; the beam of crimson energy blasting apart his attackers helmet and reducing him to jetting ash and flame. 

“Idiot.” Hordak grunted, lowering the weapon in time for Entrapa to skitter past him and reach the sealed door ahead. After a few seconds of her ministrations the huge armoured plates parted and a hail of bolt fire poured through. Entrapa retreated into a safe nook, her mechadendrite mounted plasma weapons spewing sunfire around the door frame at the dug in Iron Warriors. 

Hordak hunkered behind the murder-servitors until Entrapa whistled and they went charging forward. He smirked and ran in behind them.

Catra laughed as she yanked her whip’s handle, cinching it’s long acidic length tight around the throat of some poor imitation of her lord. The astartes choked, gurgling curdled blood and she drank his pain. The passage towards the bridge was choked with corpses and suffering; Lonnie and her warriors had laid down punishing curtains of fire with their hellguns allowing Scorpia and Catra to cut a bloody swathe through the superhuman defenders.

Blood spurted on her as Scorpia tore an offended looking havok in half with her claws, his autocannon clattering to the ground. Catra freed her whip from the dead man and danced around a bolt round; there was so much fear and torment in the air that she was glutted, her blood sang in her veins and incoming projectiles crawled through the air like sluggish insects. She slid a knife between her fingers and flicked it towards the astarte shooting her, it sank into the millimetre of exposed flesh at his neck and he fell. 

This is living. Catra thought.

They found Prime in his throne room. It was obvious really, Hordak conceded as he ducked under the sweeping beams of energy projected from defense turrets lining the walls, of course the smug bastard wouldn’t deign to repel a boarding attempt himself. 

Most of Entrapta’s murder-servitors were smoking ruins now, having finally met their end bringing down the pair of Contemptor Dreadnoughts that served as Prime’s honour guard. The remaining one dragged itself eagerly forward on shattered legs towards the throne. Entrapta herself was gone, vanished into the twisting darkness of the chamber.

Kyle drowned a knot of Hordak’s kinsmen in golden flame, bloody tears streamed down his face and fell on Rogelio’s prone form. A bolt round punched into his shoulder and detonated, sending his arm flying and dropping the thin psyker to the floor. 

The servitor reached the base of the throne and raised it’s integrated bolt cannon in time for Prime’s mace to crash down on its grinning skull head, pulping it. He strode over the smoking carcass and raised his hand. The questing turrets stilled and the room became eerily silent save for the distant rumble of void combat, even the burning marines stopped screaming.

“Little Brother.” Prime spoke, disappointment plain in his voice. “What folly is this? You seek to kill me?” He walked slowly towards the barricade Hordak hid behind, the green optics of his helm somehow managing to convey embarrassment. 

“Come out from behind that debris and face me.”

Hordak stood. His body ached, both from his condition and from the myriad wounds he had collected. 

“I see you are still as pathetic as the last time we met.” Prime taunted, leaning casually on the haft of his mace. Long mechanical tendrils waved behind his head. “Though I must admit; I never expected you to be so bold. Kneel before me, and I may spare you.”

A shadow flitted in the background and Hordak caught a flash of purple. He approached Prime. “I will never kneel before you.” Prime cocked his head.

“A pity.” 

The haft of the mace intercepted Hordak’s blade and it’s riposte sent Hordak flying. He rolled to his feet and ducked another effortless swing, thrusting the sword at joint in Prime’s immaculate armour. His brother batted the strike away with an open palm and Hordak lept back.

Prime was playing with him.

“What’s wrong Little Brother?” The warlord asked, circling him. “I thought you wanted to kill me?” He swung the mace and Hordak raised his blade to block the blow but at the last second Prime changed angle. The massive impact struck Hordak’s other arm, shattering the armour and bone. His volkite caliver detonated a heartbeat later and took what was left of the limb with it. 

Hordak tumbled backwards, ribs broken and crushed inwards. Blood erupted from his mouth and coated the inside of his helmet, blinding him. 

“And to think we share the same geneseed.” Prime’s voice floated towards him. He fumbled for the release and pulled the helmet off, he saw Prime looming over him. “I won’t even dirty myself recovering yours.” 

His vision cleared just enough to see Entrapta level something large and archaic at Prime. The room filled with a howling roar, like atmosphere venting into vacuum, and a needle thin beam of solid black lanced through Prime’s torso. Black flame washed over his body and a foot wide hole exploded around the beam. Entrapta tossed the spent weapon aside and leapt back into the darkness as Prime stumbled, turning towards where she had been. 

Hordak tackled him to the ground, pinning Prime to the floor with a knee to the chest even as the black flames burned. Hordak’s power blade sliced through Prime’s rising arm, sending the mace flying, before he brought the pommel down again and again on Prime’s head; on the fourth blow the helm cracked and split. Hordak threw the blade aside and tore the ruined helm off Prime’s head. Four disbelieving green eyes blinked up at him. 

“You tore my honour away.” Hordak snarled. “You cast me aside!” He thrust his clawed hand into the hole in Horde Prime’s torso and forced it up into his chest. Prime tried to scream but his lungs were already ruined. 

“I am Hordak!” 

His hand closed around Prime’s thundering hearts and he squeezed. The organs burst, and he ripped their ruin out. Prime spasmed, eyes widening then the green light faded. 

He sat there panting hard, looking at the blood soaking his clawed hand. Entrapta landed next to him, yelling his name and fussing over his wounds. He waved her off, groping for his sword. 

“Entrapta… I want to broadcast to everyone.

Catra sat on the Velvet Glove’s command throne, grinning hungrily at the captured bridge crew. Scorpia and Lonnie were rounding them up, making sure all the officers were under guns and the crew were still working on running the ship. Force Captain Cobalt had informed her that they had taken the enginarium with minimal casualties and the Zona Turbarentur was gutting any escorts that tried to close. The only people who hadn’t reported success were Hordak and Entrapta. Just as she was about to let a moment of worry ruin her murder fuelled buzz, a visual broadcast forced itself onto the screen and she grinned.

Hordak was battered, torn, bloody and more alive than she had ever seen him. He stood tall, with a severe expression of triumph on his face, and in his hand danged the severed head of Horde Prime. He held it up.

“Horde Prime is dead. I, Hordak Bittersoul, killed him.” He threw the head on the floor. “I hope you all drown in his hubris.”

The broadcast ended and Catra whooped. Her comms buzzed and Hordak’s voice filled her ears.

“You have the bridge?”

“Yes, Lord Hordak.” She was still grinning like a fool.

“Then take us back into the nebula.” 

She looked out of the vast viewport. Already Prime’s fleet was splintering. 

“On our way.” Catra paused. “And Hordak?”

“Yes?” He replied, gruff but still so alive.

“Well done.”


End file.
